


Love Isn't Everything But it Sure as Hale Helps

by fandomfreak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depressed Stiles, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:47:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfreak/pseuds/fandomfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is depressed and self-harms. Derek finds out and tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Isn't Everything But it Sure as Hale Helps

**Author's Note:**

> This was very cathartic for me. I've been struggling with depression and self-harm for quite some time now and recently relapsed. Some of the things Stiles does/says in this work have actually been done/said by me, so yeah. I hope I tagged all potential triggers and if I didn't, I apologize in advance. I'm still trying to figure this website out.

            The bruises are his own doing, but if he admits to that, they’ll know there’s something wrong with him. He doesn’t want them to know, is afraid they’ll see him differently. He does not want those looks of pity he used to get after his mom got sick. He doesn’t want people to watch their words around him, like they used to do with his mother. He just wants to be a normal teen. After all, most teens struggle with depression to some extent, right?

            He’s only lying to himself. He knows there’s something wrong, always has. The only difference is that he used to be able to hide it. He used to be able to push away negative emotions until he was alone. Now, he can’t. He spends most days randomly crying at the stupidest things and he hates himself for it.

            He doesn’t understand it. He thought he was finally beating his depression. His life is finally starting to fall into place as he is falling apart. He’s gotten great at lacrosse, has been dating Derek for almost a year, his dad got married to Scott’s mom and they all live together as a family, yet he feels so… empty. It’s either emptiness or sadness, never anything else.

            When he’s numb, it’s easy to pretend. He can laugh at Scott’s lame jokes, smile at his dad and Melissa holding hands under the dinner table, and he can go out with Derek without the fear of bursting into tears. It’s those days that are the worst though, because they always come after the sad days, the days with random outbursts of tears and hurt, the days he feels like he’ll never survive. The numbness comes afterwards, after he’s emotionally drained. It’s his way of coping. Those are the days when he can pretend to be happy but that’s actually when he poses the biggest threat to himself because he just doesn’t care.

            He pretends because he loves them, hides it because he doesn’t want to hurt them. Tries his hardest to keep himself together until everyone’s asleep. Hides the scars on his wrists because he knows it will kill them. He wants to be okay, he wants to fight for them, but these days are the hardest. He wishes the nogitsune ‘d gotten him killed.  He wishes he were stronger, that he would stop giving in to his selfish needs and put the blade down once and for all, but he can’t. He’s weak and pathetic and stupid and broken and he just wants to die.

\- - -

            It’s been a rough day. He’s been in a shitty mood for no reason. He’s already had to rush out of class three times to cry. When he walks back into the classroom after the fourth time, Coach pulls him aside.

            “What the hell is wrong with you Stilinski?”

            He shrugs.

            Coach sighs. “Go home, Stilinski.”

            He shakes his head. No way in hell will he go home early for the seventh time this month. He’s already missed a few days, too. If he goes home now, people will certainly start asking questions he’s not ready to answer.

            Coach throws his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. If you run out of this class one more time, I’m sending you home.”

            “Okay,” Stiles says. He heads back to his seat.

            “Dude, what’s up? You’ve spent most of this period MIA.”

            He shrugs. He needs to come up with something fast.

            Scott turns back in his seat to face him. “Are you okay?”

            Fuck. That’s the question that will always make him cry. No he’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay for some time and at the rate things are going, he’ll probably never be okay. He bites his cheek to distract himself.

            “Yeah, I’m fine. I think it’s just a stomach bug or something,” he explains, smiling reassuringly.

            “You should go home then,” Scott says, concerned.

            “Nah. I’ll be fine. There’s nothing left to puke out anyways.”

            Scott doesn’t look convinced but the bell rings and they don’t have the next class together, so they gather their things and go their separate ways.

\- - -

            He’s ready to go home and just sleep this off when Derek surprises him by picking him up after school. Stiles is tempted to lie and say that he’s sick to get out of it, but seeing Derek’s face light up as he discusses what he’s planned for the evening changes his mind. He’ll do this for Derek, even if he feels like he’s dying inside.

            They’ve been driving for a few minutes when Derek realizes something is wrong.

            “You’re awfully quiet today,” he says, looking over at Stiles.

            “Sorry.”

            “You don’t need to apologize. It was just an observation.”

            Stiles swallows, looking out the window. The tears are threatening to spill out at any moment and he’s not sure he’ll be able to hold them back.

            Derek can sense how tense and upset Stiles is. He pulls over and places a comforting hand on Stiles’ shoulder, just as the boy once did for him.

            “Stiles, are you okay?”

            That does it. He closes his eyes and begins to cry. He can usually cry quietly, but today he can’t control the sobs that wrack his body. There’s snot running down his nose and the tears are spilling into his mouth, leaving him with a salty taste, but he just doesn’t care anymore. He can’t keep pretending, not this time.

            “Hey,” Derek says softly, pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay.”

            Stiles tries to pull away. “I’ll get snot on your nice leather jacket,” he sobs.

            Derek holds back his laughter. “Oh, Stiles. Always worrying about everyone and everything before thinking of yourself. I don’t care if you get snot on my jacket. I just care about you being okay.”

            Stiles leans into the hug, muffling his sobs against Derek’s jacket. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, with Derek muttering comforting words into his ear as he runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair while Stiles cries his heart out.    Eventually, he’s all cried out. They both pull away and Derek hands him a tissue. He cleans himself up as best as he can. He feels terrible for ruining their afternoon plans.

            “I’m sorry,” he says, voice raspy.

            Derek kisses his forehead. “No need for that. I love you. I’m here for you. Don’t forget that.”

            Stiles rests his head against the window, rubbing his eye. “I love you too,” he whispers. He feels like crying again but ignores it. “I’m sorry for ruining our date.”

            Derek smiles at him. “You didn’t. This was nice in and of itself. I like feeling close to you in ways other than physically, you know.”

            Stiles halfheartedly smiles back but doesn’t say anything.

            “How about we postpone this for another time and I take you home instead?”

            Stiles sighs, nodding. “I just need some alone time,” he explains.

            “I understand. Remember who you’re talking to. What did you once call me? Loner McLonesome?” He chuckles.

            Stiles tries to laugh but ends up making a strange choked noise instead. Derek reaches out for his hand.

            “You know I’m here for you, right?” he says quietly. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you and always will be. Whatever you need, whether it be a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, or a distraction from whatever may be going on, I’m always here.”

            Stiles closes his eyes, squeezing Derek’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispers.

            Derek looks into Stiles’ bloodshot eyes, his red nose and quivering lip, and that’s when he realizes something is seriously wrong. That’s when his eyes travel to Stiles’ wrists and his worst fear is confirmed. He smiles sadly. This can only end one of two ways, neither of which is very appealing.

            He moves his hand down to Stiles’ wrist, tracing the scars on his arm. Stiles flinches and pulls away.

            ‘Don’t.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Just take me home.”

            “Stiles-“

            “Please.” His voice sounds so broken and Derek knows nothing he says will get through to Stiles right now, so he complies. He’ll find a way to help Stiles through this.

\- - -

            He’s been sitting in his room for the past half hour, staring blankly at the wall. Derek knows now. Derek knows and he’s going to tell Scott and Scott will tell his mom and the sheriff and then they’ll all treat him like a delicate flower and things will never be normal ever again.

            He’s crying again, but this time, it’s out of self-hatred. How could he be so stupid? How could he let himself fall apart in front of Derek? Why was he so fucking weak?

            He couldn’t cut anymore, not when Derek would be checking for new cuts. He needed to hurt himself though; he needed to make his pain visible so he could justify it.

            He walks up to the mirror and watches his reflection, focuses on the tears rolling down his cheeks. He looks so fucking pathetic. He has never hated anyone as much as he hates himself at that moment.

            Maintaining eye contact with himself, he clenches a fist and punches himself. It stings, but not enough. The next punch has much more force behind it, and he enjoys the throbbing sensation it leaves for the next few seconds. As he starts getting into a steady rhythm, it becomes easier to punch himself. Before he knows it, minutes have passed and his cheek is already beginning to swell up. Once he’s satisfied that it’ll continue to hurt for the rest of the night, he stops. He is breathless and sweaty, his fist sore and his cheeks flushed. For the first time in weeks, he feels alive.

\- - -

            “What happened to your face?” Scott asks the next morning.

            “I fell off the bed. I think I hit my cheek against the nightstand or something. I just remember waking up with this throbbing sensation on my cheek but I was pretty sleepy so I just ignored it and went back to sleep.” He shrugs. At least the last part of it was true.

            “Let me take some of your pain away,” Scott says, reaching out to touch Stiles’ cheek.

            Stiles backs away. “No thanks. I already took some Ibuprofen.”

            “You sure?” Scot asks.

            Stiles nods. “It doesn’t’ even hurt that much.”

            Scott nods. “Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know.”

            “Will do, bro,” he says, patting Scott in the back. He hopes everyone else will believe his story too, especially Derek. Otherwise, he’ll probably tell the sheriff and Stiles will not be able to handle the look of disappointment his father will surely give him if he ever finds out his son is self-harming.

\- - -

            He avoids Derek for a few days. By then, his cheek is no longer swollen but still very much bruised. It hurts to smile or eat, and he loves it. It’s not like he’s smiled much these days, and he has no appetite, but the bruises give him an excuse to not eat. He loves looking at his bruises in the mirror, loves knowing that for once, everyone else can see his pain. He remembers the adrenaline running through his veins as he punched himself continuously and it reminds him that no, he’s not dead inside. He can still feel and that’s all that matters.

            He’s thinking about the recent events when he spots Derek standing outside his Jeep and he knows it’s too late to run. He sighs and rolls down his window.

            “Can we talk?” Derek asks. He hasn’t noticed the bruises yet.

            Stiles nods. “Your car or mine?”

            “Here’s fine.”

            Damn. Now he’ll surely notice the bruising.

            “Come on in,” Stiles says.

            Derek walks around to the passenger side and climbs in. His eyes immediately notice the giant greenish brown bruises on Stiles’ cheek. He feels a flash of anger but forces himself to calm down. He knows Stiles is hurting and getting mad at him will do nothing but push him away.

            “What happened?” he asks quietly.

            “I fell off my bed,” Stiles lies.

            “Stiles, please don’t lie to me,” Derek begs.

            “I’m pretty sure you know exactly what happened, so why are you asking,” he snaps.

            “Because I want to hear it from your mouth,” Derek explains.

            “I fucking punched myself, is that what you wanted to hear? That I’m fucking stupid and I fucking hate myself and I want to die but I stay alive for you guys and the only way I can survive is by hurting myself. That I feel fucking numb 90% of the time and I’m pretty much dead inside unless I’m cutting myself and watching the blood pour out of my arms or watching as I punch the crap out of myself in a mirror. That there’s something seriously fucking wrong with me but I can’t bring myself to seek help because I am terrified that no one ever look at me the same ever again. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Stiles is crying now but he refuses to let Derek comfort him. He pushes Derek’s hand away and curls up in his seat, resting his head against his knees.

            “Stiles, let me help you,” Derek pleads, leaning towards Stiles.

            “You don’t understand,” Stiles says, voice cracking. “I’m bad for you. I’m toxic and I’ll only end up hurting you. One of these days I’m going to end up killing myself and I’ll hurt a lot of people. You shouldn’t be one of them.”

            Derek shakes his head. “I won’t let you do that. I won’t let this destroy you.”

            Stiles laughs bitterly, the tears blurring his vision as he looks at Derek. “Life isn’t a love song, Derek. You can’t ‘fix me’. Love can only go so far.”

            “You’re right. I can’t fix you because you’re not broken, but you know what? You are bruised, both literally and figuratively, and I may not be able to ‘fix you’ as you put it, but I sure as hell will stick by your side and help you find the inner strength to save yourself. You can try to push me away as much as you want, but you won’t get rid of me that easily. I love you, Stiles, more than I have ever loved anyone else, and I’ll die before leaving your side.”

            “Why?” Stiles asks in-between sobs. ‘Why do you love someone like me? I’m so fucked up in the head.”

            Derek smiles. “You’re not. Everyone has their own demons to fight, but some people have more than others and need a little extra help. You’re human, Stiles. You can’t be strong all the time. It’s okay.”

            Stiles looks at Derek with the face of a small child seeking reassurance. “You don’t think I’m weak?”

            “Of course not. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. Not a lot of people could go on after being possessed by a nogitsune, but you survived and you didn’t let it change you. You’ve been through so much crap and you deserve to finally be happy. Let me help you. Let your dad and Scott and Melissa and everyone else help you. We love you. We want the best for you. Will you let us help you?” Derek looks into Stiles’ soft brown eyes, wondering how he could find them even more beautiful than before. He holds out a hand for Stiles to take.

            Stiles shakily reaches out a hand. Derek smiles widely at him, kissing his hand softly.

            “We’ll get through this, together. There is strength in numbers, and not just for wolves. I love you.”

            “I love you too. I’ll fight it, for you.”

            Derek shakes his head. “You’ll fight for yourself because you are worth it. We’ll fight it with you, but ultimately, you’ll have to be the one to overcome this for yourself.”

            Stiles sighs softly, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. “I hate myself. If it weren’t for you guys, I would have killed myself by now.”

            Derek rests his head against Stiles’ head. “Okay. Fight it for us until you learn to love yourself, then you can fight it for yourself. Just keep fighting, okay? I know you can do it, but you need to believe in yourself too. You’re so strong and have been through so much to let this defeat you. You. Stiles Stilinski, are my hero. You’re so selfless and kind and you’ve never once envied Scott or tried to go after power. You’re intelligent and witty and just a great person in general.”

            Stiles’ lip is trembling. “You really think all of that?”

            Derek smiles. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true,” he says as he leans in and kisses Stiles’ lips softly.

            Stiles kisses him back, closing his eyes and letting himself just enjoy the moment. He’ll be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not any time soon, but eventually, with the help of his loved ones, he’ll be okay.

           


End file.
